


She Rides With the Hunt

by sunkelles



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Attempt at suicide, But I'll tag it just in case, F/F, Femslash, I dunno if it really counts, The violence is also more graphic than I normally write, Wild Hunt, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:34:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1782475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a battle, the Wild Hunt always arrives to clean up the carnage. Zoe Nightshade encounters them, and their leader, Artemis. Mortals are not allowed to glimpse the Hunt and live, but Artemis supposes that she can make an exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Rides With the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, a few notes.  
> First, I know that Zoe's name has a cool accent on the O. I am just a lazy piece of shit who didn't want to use it.  
> Second, I am not as well versed on the Wild Hunt myth as I'd actually like to be. I just kind of borrowed from a lot of them and made shit up. I hope that it worked.  
> Thirdly, there's a tiny bit of Jason/Percy in here if you squint.  
> Fourthly, Calypso will make a great queen and we all know it.

Zoe hoists the heavy helmet above her. It sits heavy on her head, and she knows that she could never bear the weight of her father’s crown, metaphorical or otherwise. She knows that should her father fall in this battle, and she as well, the crown will fall to Calypso. Zoe thinks her sister more well-suited to the job anyway. She sighs.

Zoe is not sure exactly what she is getting into. She has sparred many times. She’s been told that she’s quite good with a sword (for a woman). She should bring her crossbow. She is much better with it. But she knows that if she were to, then she would be discovered. Her father does not employ archers.

She does not know how she will fare in this fight, but she supposes it doesn’t matter much. Zoe doesn’t need to live. She just needs to try.

It’s her fault, she knows, that the war has progressed this far. It’s her fault that the jewels have been stolen, her fault that enemy has access to many of Hesperide’s secrets.

She is the one who fell for Hercules’ charms. So she will bring him down. Zoe will bring him down, or she will die trying. She grasps her sword, and proceeds to follow her father’s men into battle.

* * *

 She does not ride her own mount. It would be too risky. Zoe steals another from the stables, a grey stallion much lower bred than her own chestnut mare. No one asks her any questions. No one even seems to notice her presence as the company rides. This works to her advantage.

* * *

They enter a clearing near the castle. The woods seem to stop at this spot, and sunlight beams in at them. It is peaceful in a way that is unsettling. Moments later, the paradise turns to hell. Men on horseback ride in through different parts of the trees.

Her father’s men startle.

“Don’t flee!” her father shouts, “Attack!” Her eyes scan the field. She finds Hercules, clad in his distinctive purple cloak and his house’s lion skin crest. Zoe grabs her sword _Nightshade_ and holds it tightly within her fingers. She charges.

He is occupied by three soldiers from her side and still winning. Zoe can see his confidence, almost hear his easy laugh. For a moment, she remembers why she fell in love with him. She rides behind him, close enough to rip his helmet from his head. His horse does not react, but she has never known his horse to be astute. He does, but it is too late. Her sword is already coming at him from the back of his neck. He falls from his horse. It is not graceful, but deaths seldom are. The blood pools near at his neck, and she can hear him whimper. She sheaths her bloody sword, and turns her horse around.

There is still a battle to fight.

It is not honorable, but she is not a knight. She is not required to be honorable. She is a desperate woman trying to rid her family of a threat, and herself of painful memories.

 _She_ is not honorable.

Her virgin sword bathes in blood this day. She loses track of the amount of men who meet their end against the sharp end of _Nightshade_. She has but scratches across her arms, though her body count it growing. She rips off her helmet to increase her visibility, and no one even bats an eye at the ebony braid that falls out. They are too busy trying not to die by her sword.

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe sees someone fall off his horse. He is wearing a red cloak, _the color of Hesperide._ He does not get back up.

“The king is dead,” one knight says.

“No,” Zoe finds herself thinking, “no, father, _no!”_

“We fight for Hesperide,” another shouts. The knights press on. Zoe regains her strength and does the same.

Blood falls to the ground like blood. The cravens and the traitors have already fled, and Zoe remains on the field with but two men from each side.

A knight, _her knight,_ looks to her and finally sees her for what she is. He looks to her and sees his princess.

“Princess,” he says, “What are you doing here?”

“Fighting,” she says. She stabs at one of the enemy’s men. The number drops down to three. The man, in Olympia’s purple cloak, looks to the two knights. Then he looks to her. He flees.

The other knight laughs.

“We did it,” he says.  Zoe looks to the bodies that litter the floor, the bodies she had helped to put there. She doesn’t feel as if any but one is cause for celebration.

“Percy,” the blonde knight says, “stop this. We have to leave.”

The other knight- _Percy_ side eyes him, “Why? I get why we wouldn’t want to stay around the corpses, but why do we _have_ to leave?”

“You hail from the Far East,” the knight- _Jason_ says, “You do not know of our legends. The Wild Hunt will be here any time.”

“The Wild Hunt?” he asks. Zoe can hear the howling of dogs in the distance.

“Please-“ the knight tells his companion, “just for once, do as your told. Just come on.” Percy drops his act.

“Alright,” he says. Zoe can’t go back. She is not prepared to be queen. The people know it. They know that she has been deceived, and they know that she almost brought about its downfall. She cannot return home.

“Princess-“ Jason says, looking to her, “Come on! We haven’t any time to waste!”  
“I’m not going,” she says. She looks to her father’s corpse. She needs to pay her respects.

“What do you mean,” he says, “You know what will happen if the hunters finds you. They will _kill_ you. The Hunt only accepts Fairies.”

“I know what will happen,” she says, “I will not return.” She can hear the howling again. It’s louder this time. It’s a final warning to mortals: _leave._ Zoe has never followed orders.

“I respect your decision,” Jason says to her. He then looks to Percy.

“But you’re coming,” he says. Percy shrugs. Jason glares, and the two run. Zoe can feel the approaching presence, but she is not afraid. She did not plan to live this long. Dying by a Fairy’s magic cannot be much worse than dying by a man’s sword. Zoe looks once again at her father’s corpse. She walks to it.

“I am sorry,” she hears herself saying, the tears finally welling her eyes.

“I am sorry that I brought this war upon your kingdom,” she says.

“I am sorry that I allowed an enemy knight access to the vaults. I was stupid and in love. It’s no excuse,” she says, “I am sorry that I caused your death.” She looks at his body. It’s bloody and bedraggled. The sad corpse looks very little like her regal father.

“I love you,” she says, “I do love you.” She allows herself to weep, tears pouring from her eyes like a rainstorm. She’s mourning her father, and she’s mourning herself.

But maybe, maybe this has redeemed her. She destroyed the problem that she created. That has to worth something.

She can hear the beating hooves of the hunters. The Wild Hunt is coming to collect the dead, and they will take her with them. She has accepted her fate.

She looks away from her father, and towards one of the clearing’s entrances. She can see the slightest hint of their black, monstrous steads. Zoe steels herself.

She will meet her death with dignity. This is her choice.

Black fog fills the clearing before the hunters arrive. It is midday. Zoe knows that elsewhere, the sun is shining brightly. But here it looks like the darkest part of night. She supposes that this is part of the Hunt’s terror. She does not intend to feel scarred, but she does.

The figures sweep by the corpses, and instead of collecting them like she anticipated, the corpses vanish. She can feel wind whooshing by her back. The figures atop the monstrous horses do not seem human, but they do not frighten her. They are not ugly, but have a sort of other-worldly and regal beauty. They are exactly the way that she has always imagined the Fair Folk, down to the condescending glares that many are sending her way.

She inhales and exhales slowly, and tries to remind herself that she does not fear death.

The hounds quickly follow those on horses. They are enormous, much larger than her. Their hides are black.

She exhales. They ignore her, which is a fact that makes her grateful. They seem to have more interest in the dead.

Zoe looks away from the hounds. She watches as a young woman descends from her mount. The woman removes the dark hood from her head and reveals a head of auburn hair and eyes silver and bright like the moon. Her skin is as pale as ivory with the soft gleam of a pearl. She has a sort of beauty that Zoe has never seen. It is the sort that she could get used to looking at.

“Who are you,” the woman asks.

“My name is Zoe Nightshade,” she says.

Zoe pauses a moment, and then against her better judgment finds herself asking, “And you?”

The woman grins. It somehow makes her Elvin features seem more human.

“My name is Artemis,” she says, “I lead the Wild Hunt.”

She sends Zoe a look that almost seems fond and asks, “Why did you not flee?” Zoe does not answer her.

“It is common knowledge that the Hunt rides after every battle, that we come to clean up the carnage,” she says. Zoe does not respond.

“We seldom take mortals,” she asserts, and then she looks to Zoe, “Do you have a death wish?” Zoe thinks it wiser not to respond.

Artemis sighs.

“Why were you even here?” She asks.

“I fought,” Zoe says, she can hear the offense she has taken in her own tone. 

Artemis’ face lights up, “You did? I did not think that mortal men allowed that. We almost never take the corpses of women.”

“I pretended to be a man,” she clarifies.

Artemis looks saddened by this, but also respectful, “How many did you kill?”

“I do not remember, my lady,” she says. She does not know where the honorific came from, but it feels right on her tongue, at least for this woman.

“Show me your sword,” the Fairy woman tells her. Zoe does not hesitate and removes _Nightshade_ from its sheath. It is caked in blood. The woman smiles at her, and then looks contemplative.

“I will not kill you,” she says, and Zoe feels confused, “it would be such a waste of a fine young woman. But I cannot let you go free, either. The Hunt’s secrets remain secrets.” One of the men on horseback glares between them, but Artemis takes no heed.

“I know,” she says, “You will join the Hunt.”

“Wait,” Zoe says, “I am mortal. I cannot join the Hunt.”

A fire lights in Artemis’ eyes, “I lead the Wild Hunt. Do you think that I cannot gift you with immortality? I am a _goddess_.”

Zoe is caught completely off guard. This is not what she expected. She had expected a short and frightening death, not an offer of eternity.

“What say you?” the goddess asks. Zoe thinks to how she was willing to die a few moments, ago, how she was ready. But she also thinks to the burdens she would strip herself of. She would not have to be queen. She would be free of her guilt from her past actions. she could ride on horseback forever, and she would be able to be with this woman, with her Elvin looks and passionate eyes. 

“Yes,” she finds herself saying, as if there isn’t even a choice. Maybe there isn’t.

The woman mounts her stead and holds her hand out for Zoe to take.

“You will ride with me until we can find you a horse,” she says. Zoe takes her hand and finds herself behind the other woman. Their bodies press against each other in a way that feels right. It feels like Zoe was meant to ride with this woman.

“Go!” Artemis shouts. Her horse races forward at a speed that Zoe has never experienced before. It is exhilarating, as thrilling as the battle but without the threat of death hanging over her head.

“How good are you with a crossbow?” Artemis asks over her shoulder. Zoe can hardly hear her over the sound of the wind passing them by.

“Very good, my lady,” she hears herself shout. Artemis looks back to her with a fond smile, “Good. We can work with this.” Zoe smiles. She thinks that she already likes the Hunt, or maybe she just likes Artemis. But she doesn’t care which, because for the first time since she nearly brought about the downfall of her own kingdom, Zoe feels at home.


End file.
